Page 124 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Maighread glanced at the healer, who nodded reluctantly. "Briefly. Then we must work."

Maighread lifted the child carefully and placed her beside her mother, helping her avoid the burned areas. The woman wrapped one arm around her daughter and buried her face in the girl's hair, sobbing. Tavish stood nearby, watching with an expression that made Maighread's chest ache.

After a moment, Maighread gently extracted the child. "Come, Aisling. Let the healers help yer maither. We'll stay right here where she can see us, aye?"

The girl nodded, sniffling. Maighread settled her on her lap, smoothing back tangled hair while the healers began their work. The child was small and warm against her, trembling occasionally. Tavish knelt beside them, his presence solid and reassuring.

"Ye're very brave, Aisling," he said softly. "Yer maither is proud of ye."

"Will she be alright?" the child whispered.

"These healers are the best in the Highlands. They'll take good care of her."

"Promise?"

Tavish met Maighread's eyes over the girl's head. "Aye. I promise."

They stayed like that while the healers worked, Maighread holding the child, Tavish close beside them, murmuring quiet reassurances whenever Aisling whimpered. The girl's crying gradually quieted to hiccups, then to exhausted silence as she watched her mother being tended. Around them, the Great Hall buzzed with activity, but their corner felt strangely peaceful.

Finally, the healer stepped back, wiping her hands. "She'll recover. The burns are serious but nae life-threatening. She needs rest and careful tending, but she'll heal."

The mother had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her breathing even despite the pain. Maighread shifted the girl slightly in her arms.

"Ye can sit with her now," Maighread told Aisling gently. "She's sleeping, but she'll want tae see ye when she wakes."

The child nodded and Maighread helped her crawl over to curl against her mother's uninjured side. The woman's arm instinctively tightened around her daughter even in sleep. Maighread and Tavish remained kneeling there for another moment, watching mother and child together, safe and healing, before quietly moving away to help tend to the others who needed them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Maighread found a quiet corner near the kitchens after the wounded had been settled. Her hands were stained with blood and soot, her robe filthy, her hair falling loose from its braid. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, letting exhaustion wash over her.

Footsteps approached. She knew them instantly.

"Ye should rest," Tavish said.

She opened her eyes. He stood before her, equally filthy, equally exhausted. A cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but needed cleaning.

"So should ye."

"In a moment." He stepped closer, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered against her cheek. "Ye were brilliant. The way ye organized everything, kept everyone calm. Ye're a born leader."

"I just did what needed daeing."

"Na. Ye did more than that." His thumb traced along her jaw. "Ye gave people hope when they had none. That's nae a small thing."

Her throat tightened. "I was terrified the entire time."

"I ken. But ye didnae show it. That takes strength."

"I thought ye might nae come back."

"I told ye I would. I always will." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Naething will keep me from returning tae ye. Nae Sinclair, nae war, nae death itself. I'll always find me way back."

Maighread's eyes burned. She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss, tasting smoke and exhaustion and something fiercer. He responded immediately, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened, turned hungry, both of them pouring fear and relief into the contact.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she pressed her forehead to his.

"I love ye," she whispered.